Actions Speak
by netangel182
Summary: You know,according to Mehrabian’s communication model 93 percent of communication is nonverbal. So the old adage is true ‘actions speak louder than words.’
1. Chapter 1

Eh, I have nothing better to do at the moment than write a story and it has been swimming around in my head. Not really sure which season this fits into, so humor me. Oh and yeah I don't own anyone or anything... I'm poor.

And now, on with the show...

* * *

Grissom threw his Denali in park and hopped out. Being late was one thing for his team, but he prided himself on being on time, if he left the office at all. He darted into the room, grabbing messages from the front desk as he passed through. Passing the break room, the team was already assembled, joking as always and Grissom smirked as he darted for his office. Fingering through the assignments for the night, he mentally ticked off who would work which case. Dead body at the Stardust. Catherine and Nick could handle that one, they had the coolest heads for the tourists on the strip. Hit and run off Blue Diamond road. Warrick knew that stretch of highway better than anyone and could use the fresh air after the mood he had been in the last week or so. Missing person in Henderson. Man was Sara going to hate him.

"Earth to Grissom." Catherine stood in the middle of the hallway, arms folded over her chest. She had been standing there with the rest of the team for over a minute and their supervisor hadn't moved. Though this was not an unusual occurrence around the lab, Catherine's short attention span kicked in. "Any chance we could get assignments?"

Grissom was pulled out of his stupor and absently handed out the papers silently before walking away.

"Missing person, Grissom, seriously?" Sara said with a groan. "Why don't you take this one, I noticed you don't have a case."

"I follow him to serve my turn upon him," he replied, not looking up from his messages.

"Shakespeare before coffee is just plain cruel man," Warrick commented, scanning over the paper he had been given.

Finally looking up Grissom smirked. "Othello. It means you serve me and I will serve you."

With that the group slowly began to disperse, leaving only Catherine standing in the hall with him. "Alright, what do you have there that is so interesting?"

"Hmm?" Grissom glanced back down at the note in his hand. "Oh. I am about to find out."

Catherine shook her head as she watched him walk away. Was it possible for him to get any stranger?

* * *

"Hello, my name is Gil Grissom, LVPD, I have a message from a Stephanie Abbott." 


	2. Chapter 2

One week later

Everyone was surprisingly chipper for a Friday night in Vegas. The night shift team was gathered around the table in the break room, waiting on their assignments from Grissom once again. They passed the time by teasing Greg, who had stopped in to make a fresh pot of coffee. Their conversation was cut short when their supervisor entered the room, trailed by a petite blonde.

"Alright, we have bodies to go around," he announced, holding up a stack of papers. "First off, Catherine and Warrick, body dump near McCarran. Nick and Sara, making up for last week, four nineteen in Spring Valley with me."

"That's what I'm talking about," Sara said, taking the paper with a smile.

With a satisfied nod, Grissom turned to leave. "Lets get to work."

Nick spoke up hesitantly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Grissom spun around, following Nick's line of sight until his eyes settled on the blonde in the corner. He started slightly, as if he had forgotten that she was in the room. "Oh. Catherine Willows, Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders, Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes, meet Stephanie Abbott. She will be hanging around for the next few weeks, working on a study. So be nice. Now let's get to work."

That said, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Stephanie chuckled as he walked away. She had heard that Gil Grissom from Las Vegas was an interesting study in behavior, but after meeting him she realized interesting was an understatement. She turned to realize that all five sets of eyes in the room were focused directly on her and she was suddenly very uncomfortable. Being the center of attention was never something that she enjoyed. Feeling color rise in her cheeks, she gave an uncomfortable smile.

"You heard the boss," Catherine spoke up, breaking the awkward silence that had overtaken the room. "You ready, Warrick?"

The man in question nodded and stood, extending a hand to Stephanie on his way out the door. "It's very nice to meet you Ms. Abbott. Welcome."

Catherine followed in suit before the two of them disappeared down the hall.

"So what is it that you study, Ms. Abbott?" Sara asked casually, filling her travel mug with fresh coffee.

"It's Stephanie, please," she said with a smile. "I have a background in criminal psychology and behavior."

"A profiler?" Greg perked up.

"No, not specifically," Stephanie replied. "While I do have a little knowledge of profiling, most of my work has been exclusively based on behavioral analysis."

Nick nodded, impressed. "And who is it that you are analyzing?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Stephanie replied with a wink.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, setting his coffee cup in the sink. "I would actually."

"Do strong women intimidate you, Mr. Stokes?" Stephanie smirked and cocked an eyebrow at the look of shock on the Texans face. "I thought so. Shall we?"

"I like this girl," Sara commented to the still dumbstruck boys as she followed the blonde out the door.

"Oh yeah. She's a ton of fun." Nick said with a scowl.

Greg shrugged and poured another cup of coffee. "Hey, at least she's fine."

"Easy for you to say, Greggo. She didn't analyze you."

The tech smirked. "With a body like that she can analyze me all she wants."

"Don't you have DNA to get back to or something?" Nick joked before heading for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Stephanie hung back as the others headed toward the menagerie of police cars and empty ambulances. Leaning against the Denali, she mentally recorded the behaviors of each of the investigators. True they had nothing to do with her study, but she couldn't help herself.

Nick made quick work of collecting his kit as they arrived at the crime scene. Morbid as it was, homicides invigorated him and it had been awhile since he really got to dig in. He kept stride with Grissom and Sara until he realized that their newest associate was no longer in toe. Feeling eyes on his back, he spun around to see her idly watching them. He cocked his head, taking her in for a moment. Greg had definitely been right. Even in Vegas, city of show girls and celebrities, Stephanie stood out. Her blonde hair hung in lose curls around her shoulders, stray curls framing her face. Even in her modest suit, Nick could make out the hint of feminine curves and he suspected that she knew to use them to her advantage.

He retraced his steps toward the vehicle with a smirk on his face. "You're analyzing me right now, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Stephanie said with a smile. "Does it make you nervous?"

"A little, yeah," Nick admitted.

"Hey, you two coming or what?" Sara called before she ducked under the crime tape.

"Remember, you're observing. No hands," Nick instructed as the walked toward the apartment complex. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of his vest. "But put these on just in case. Wouldn't want you compromising my crime scene."

"Hello gang," Brass called as the group approached the open apartment door.

"So what've we got?" Sara asked, pulling out her flashlight.

"Victim's name is Hailey Simms, 21, journalism student at UNLV. Neighbor went to walk her dog, came out to find the vic's door wide open. Landlord said Hailey had a roommate, a Michael Valencia."

"Let me guess, no one has seen him," Sara ventured.

"Go figure," Brass replied. "Asking around with the neighbors, but no one seems to have heard anything."

"Neighborhood like this on a quiet night," Nick though aloud. He shone his flashlight on the splintered doorframe. "You'd think someone would have heard something. You don't have to look far for signs of forced entry."

Brass shrugged. "Well no one is talking yet, but I'll see what I can dig up. David is waiting for you inside."

Stephanie cautiously followed the other three into the apartment, taking cautious steps as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Noticing her trouble, Nick reached into his pocket, pulled out his spare flashlight and handed it to her. Flicking the light around aimlessly, Stephanie felt a chill creep up her spine. Aside from the cracked doorframe the apartment seemed relatively pristine. A half-eaten sandwich and glass of milk sat on the coffee table along with an open laptop. The muffled drone of a television coming from a back room added to the eeriness of the scene. Her attention was snagged by a concentration of light in the hall that led to the kitchen. There, lying in a pool of what Stephanie could only assume was her own blood, lay a slender girl, her lifeless face staring right at her. Stephanie suddenly felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her. As quickly as she could, she backpedaled out of the apartment and into the fresh air.

"Uh, Griss," Nick said, catching the movement at the door out of the corner of his eye. "We seem to be a man short."

"You check on her, we'll start processing," Grissom commanded, continuing before Nick could protest. "The crime scene isn't going anywhere Nicky."

Reluctantly, he nodded, set down his kit and headed outside. Once out the door, Brass pointed toward the courtyard where he spotted Stephanie sitting on a bench. He took a seat on the bench beside her, removing his gloves as he did.

"Your first dead body?"

She nodded. "I study behavior. By default, my subjects are usually alive."

"Deep breaths," Nick encouraged. "It gets easier."

She shot him a grin. "I may have been wrong about you, Mr. Stokes."

"It's Nick if you don't mind, Nicky even. I'm just not such a fan of mister anything." She tilted her head and met his eyes. Nick stared right back. "Do you analyze everyone you come in contact with?"

"It's habit," Stephanie admitted. "And don't act so shocked. You do the same thing, _mister_ investigator."

"You think so, huh?" Nick asked, more curious than offended.

"Not only that, I can prove it."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I'm game for an experiment."

"Close your eyes," she commanded. When he hesitated, she rolled her eyes. "Just go with me on this alright."

"Whatever you say, but if you try to take advantage of me I'm pressing charges," he teased as he closed his eyes.

"You only met me twenty minutes ago, right? Tell me what you know about me."

Nick furrowed his brow, but kept his eyes closed. "Alright. Lets see. Blonde hair, natural; impressive for this town by the way. Light skin tone and aqua blue eyes with flecks of hazel. Watch on your left wrist most likely indicates that you are right handed. No ring or tan line on your left ring finger means you are single, probably. Am I close?"

"Alright, you get the picture. You can open your eyes." She locked eyes with him and smirked. "You use science, I use behavior. You know according to Mehrabian's communication model 93 percent of communication is nonverbal. So the old adage is true 'actions speak louder than words.' And all I said was that women intimidate you."

"You never answered my question," Nick pointed out.

"Imagine that."

"You're going to fit in well around here." He gave a low chuckle and glanced up at the open apartment door. "You ready to brave it again."

"I think so." Stephanie drew a deep breath and stood. She followed Nick back across the grass.


	4. Chapter 4

"So you know anything about this Stephanie woman?" Warrick asked as they pulled up to a back alley illuminated by red and blue flashing lights.

Catherine shrugged. "If you listen to the rumors, she studies criminal psychology."

"Well, Vegas is the place to be if you want to study behavior. People do all kinds of crazy things around here." Warrick threw the car in park and they both climbed out. He reached for his kit and caught up to Catherine as they approached the scene. "Wait. Rumor? The girl's been here all of two minutes and she's already in the rumor mill?"

"Word travels fast around here," she replied before ducking under the tape.

"In the dumpster," the detective called as they approached. "No apparent ID."

"Coroner pronounce yet?" Warrick called, peeking his head over the metal edge at the body amongst the trash.

"On their way."

Catherine nodded. "Let's start a perimeter while we wait."

* * *

"This looks like the revolving door at Caesars, man," Nick said, staring at the print powder on the apartment doorknob. "There are at least twenty sets of prints on this door."

Grissom shrugged. "Collect them all Nicky, we'll sort them out when we get back to the lab."

"Will do," Nick replied with a sigh.

"So, this is what I don't get," Sara began, walking through the apartment. "The doorframe is cracked, obvious forced entry, but there is no sign of a struggle anywhere in this apartment."

"Aside from the dead body?"

"She probably knew the person that killed her," Stephanie commented, perusing the photos on the wall.

Sara stood straight and turned from the door. "If she knew the killer, wouldn't she have let them in?"

"Just because she knew him doesn't mean she trusted him." Stephanie knelt beside the coffee table, shining the flashlight over its contents.

"He forces himself in and she doesn't put up a fight?" Sara asked.

"Not necessarily," she replied.

Grissom stood and turned to face the analyst. "You have my attention."

"It's called cost-benefit analysis; a decision making process that is a part of human nature. The basic theory is an evaluation of the benefits of following a certain course of action."

"I'm with you so far, but what does this have to do with our vic?" Sara asked.

"With the killer outside, the wisest course of action for the victim is to lock the door, right?" The others nodded and she continued. "Well, once the killer breaks down the door and is inside the apartment, the course of action changes. There is no benefit to initiating a struggle, especially if the killer could easily overpower the victim. And from the looks of her that wouldn't be too hard. Instead, the biggest benefit with the least cost to the victim would be to talk the killer down, especially if she knew him."

"Except she ended up dead," Nick pointed out. "I'd say that's a pretty big cost."

"Unfortunately the theory works both ways," Stephanie said with a frown. "Sometimes another's benefits come at a cost."

* * *

Coffee, Sara needed coffee and lots of it. It was passed midnight and still no workable evidence from Hailey Simms case. She was beginning to get frustrated, staring at the photos on the table in the layout room. As if reading her mind, Greg came through the door, a cup in each hand.

"You know no food or drink is allowed in here, right," she asked, setting down yet another picture of the body.

Greg shrugged and handed her one of the cups. "I'll take my chances. Whatcha workin on?"

"Don't you have DNA to process?" Sara quipped before taking a sip of the glorious hot liquid.

"Done. All of the blood in the apartment came back to your victim."

Sara's head dropped to the table. "I don't get it, we have nothing."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news." Greg gave a tight lipped smile and turned to leave.

"Thanks for the coffee!" Sara called after him before turning back to the file.

* * *

"Last time I checked techs ran the prints," Warrick called from the doorframe, pulling Nick's attention from the computer screen.

"She's on break. Thought I would get a head start."

"What's all this?" Warrick asked

"Prints from our vic's apartment door," Nick replied, motioning to the stacks of print collectors on the table beside the scanner. "I don't believe this. I have isolated twelve distinct prints from the door. Not one hit on AFIS. The only one that I have been able to eliminate is our victim. It's just so frustrating."

"I hear ya man," Warrick said, taking the empty seat.

"What'd you and Catherine pull tonight?"

"Dead guy in a dumpster," Warrick replied with a shrug. "No apparent cause of death yet. We're hoping to get ID off fingerprints."

"We've got the roommate." Sara popped her head in the doorway as she was darting passed the lab.

"Right behind ya."

She started to walk away, but paused and returned to the door. "Have you seen Stephanie? She won't wanna miss this."

Warrick raised an eyebrow and looked between his two co-workers.

"Last I saw her she was hanging around the DNA lab with Greg," Nick replied, gathering the evidence into an envelope.

Sara gave a curt nod and took off down the hall, giving Warrick the chance to turn on his friend. "So what's the story with this girl? She for real?"

Nick stopped mid-motion and tilted his head. "Not sure yet. But I'll tell you one thing, she knows her stuff. Gotta run, keep an eye on this for me would ya?"

"Sure. I'll do your work for ya. Good luck." Warrick turned his attention to the prints, idly flipping through them while the computer scanned.

* * *

"Knock, knock," Grissom announced his presence as he entered the morgue. "That my stabbing victim, Doc?"

"Pretty girl, isn't she?" Dr. Robbins commented, pulling back the sheet. "Cause of death is pretty obvious. Multiple stab wounds to the abdomen, the fatal one grazed the kidney and lacerated an artery. She bled out from there. No defensive wounds like I would have expected in a stabbing like this."

Grissom furrowed his brow. "Sexual assault?"

"I prepared a kit," Robbins said with a sigh. "No biological evidence present, but here is vaginal tearing indicating recent intercourse."

"Rape?"

He shrugged. "Well it wasn't gentle, that's for sure, but there is no evidence to prove that it wasn't consensual."

"Any ligature marks?"

"I checked the hands and ankles, no apparent evidence that she was bound. And before you ask, I sent a sample of her blood to tox to test for sedation." Robbins shrugged. "I'm sorry that I don't have more for you, Gil."

* * *

"Catherine!" Warrick rushed through the halls, trailing the redhead. "Cath, you've gotta see this"

Spinning around, she stared at her partner in confusion. "The print results are back already?"

"Not exactly," Warrick said, opening the folder clutched in his hand. "Check this out. This is the ten card taken from John Doe dumpster. And this is a print Nick lifted off the door of their vic."

Catherine snatched the two samples and scrutinized them. "They're a dead on visual match."

Warrick nodded. "Which means our dead guy knew Hailey Simms."

"These cases are related. We've gotta find Grissom."


	5. Chapter 5

The whole graveyard shift, including Stephanie, closed in on Brass outside the interrogation room.

"You found the roommate?" Sara asked, peeking through the glass at the very nervous-looking man in the chair.

"More like he found us. Came home to find crime scene tape on his door," Brass replied, furrowing his brow at the group. "Ok, I know that I only paged one of you. Warrick, Catherine, this isn't even your case. What's going on here?"

Catherine launched into a quick recap of what she and Warrick had discovered and the others stared at her dumbfounded.

"Do you have an ID on your guy yet?" Grissom asked, examining the matching prints.

Warrick shook his head, pursing his lips. "No match in AFIS either."

"Let's ask our boy shall we?" All six of them closed in on the door behind Brass. "You know you can't all come in there right. Gil, with me, the rest of you behind the glass."

The team watched the others vanish into the interrogation room before they piled into the small room behind the two way mirror. The five of them squished in around the window like children, settling in for the show.

"First thing first," Brass began. "You are in fact Michael Valencia, correct?"

"Yeah, of course," the younger man replied. He sat up straighter in his chair, locking eyes with Brass. "Look, what happened to Hailey? I want to see her. If she was hurt why are we here and not at the hospital?"

Brass opened his mouth to reply but Michael cut him off.

"She's hurt isn't she?" His eyes widened when Brass and Grissom exchanged a look. He hung his head. "She's more than hurt isn't she?"

Grissom closed his eyes and nodded, sliding an autopsy picture across the table.

"Oh my god. That's not possible," Michael murmured, tears brimming in his eyes. He could feel the bile building up in the back of his throat and he took a deep breath. Closing his eyes to help regain control sent huge tears falling down his cheeks. After a few deep breaths, he opened his eyes and locked eyes with Grissom "Who did this to her?"

"That's what we are going to figure out," Grissom replied gently, pouring a glass of water and handing it to Michael.

"He's either a really good actor or he is telling the truth," Nick observed.

"Michael, where were you last night?" Brass asked.

The younger man set his jaw and glared at him. "I know you have to ask me that, but I just found out my roommate is dead, so maybe you could be a little more understanding."

Brass nodded.

"I, uh, It was my friend's birthday and we rented a suite at the palms. I meant to go home but we drank too much and I decided to spend the night." He drew a deep breath. "I should have taken a cab. I should have gone home."

Brass glanced over at Grissom, as if verifying that the story was credible before continuing. "What kind of relationship did you and Hailey have?"

"We'd lived together for two years. She was my best friend. But we were never more than that, if that's what you are asking." He blindly wiped at his eyes. "Can I see her?"

Stephanie gave a sad smile. "He was in love with her."

"Did you not hear him just say…" Nick began.

"Actions speak louder than words, remember," Stephanie reminded.

"Shh, I'm trying to listen here," Sara chided focusing on the interview.

"Can you think of anyone that would want to hurt Hailey? A boyfriend maybe?" Grissom asked.

Michael shook his head. "Nah, she was the sweetest girl I have ever met. Everyone loved her. And she was single, hadn't been seeing anyone for a few months now."

"Recognize this guy?" Grissom slid a picture of the John Doe across the table.

Michael scrutinized the photo for a few minutes before shaking his head. "Nah, never seen him before."

"Then how do you explain his fingerprints on your front door?" Brass asked.

"Look, I don't know," the young man responded, scribbling a number on the pad of paper in front of Brass. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go call Hailey's parents. Please call me when I can see her."

Michael excused himself and the others joined Grissom and Brass in the interrogation room.

"Sounds legit to me," Brass observed. "I'll check with the Palms to verify his story."

"And we're back to square one," Sara said with a sigh.

"Come on, Brown," Catherine said with a frown. "Let's get back to that dumpster and see if we can turn up anything."

"Good idea," Grissom responded. "Nicky, back to the fingerprints. Sara, you and I will get back to that apartment. Meet back here in an hour we'll run the case."

Warrick saluted. "You got it boss."

The others nodded and scattered in different directions, leaving Stephanie alone in the hallway.

"Finally!" Nick's voice echoed through the whole lab. He had to meet the others in the break room in five minutes and he didn't want to go back to the group with nothing. Now three fingerprint matches were flashing back at him. He quickly printed the information and darted for the break room.

The others had already slowly trickled into the room, Warrick balancing a few pizza boxes in his hand.

"If we're going to take a break, we might as well eat," he explained.

"Good thinking," Brass called as he entered the room. "Well, the roommate checks out. Pit boss at the Palms said that our boy was part of a pretty rowdy group throwing money around."

"He win anything?" Catherine asked.

Sara shrugged. "Yeah, a get out of jail free card."

"You turn up anything on your dumpster guy?" Grissom asked, carefully selecting a slice of pizza.

Catherine shrugged. "We found a set of keys a few layers down. Greg's testing them for epithelials. It's a long shot, but it's all we've got."

"Well, that's more than we've got," Sara chimed in.

"Not so fast!" Nick called as he dashed into the room. "I had to go national, but I finally turned up three matches. Behind door number one we have Carl Ramsey, twenty years old, local, born in San Diego. Prints were taken from as part of a kindergarten safety program."

"Doesn't sound promising," Sara said taking a bite of pizza.

Nick smirked, taking a seat. "I didn't think so either. Which is why we have door number two. Jason Spencer: twenty four years old, UNLV student, arrested for a DUI in Nebraska a year ago."

Grissom shrugged. "We're getting closer."

"Ah, but the smart money is on door number three," Warrick teased, taking a sip of soda.

Nick's face fell. "How did you know?"

"You wouldn't have saved it for last otherwise," Warrick replied with a wink. "Come on, don't keep us in suspense. Who you got?"

"Andrew Finnegan: twenty two, UNLV student, convicted for level one sexual assault in Oregon four years ago, got off with community service. Sounds like a viable suspect to me. Brass-"

"I'll get right on it." At that moment, Brass's cell phone rang and he excused himself into the hall.

Stephanie was beginning to feel out of place and useless as she listened to the conversation at the table. Granted she was getting great research on the LVPD investigators, but without criminals or suspects, she just felt like she was encroaching.

A few minutes later Brass walked back through the door, a confused look on his face. "You guys aren't going to believe this. Kid waiting at the front desk says that he has information about Hailey Simms."

"What's so strange about that?" Grissom asked.

"Clerk said he identified himself as Andrew Finnegan."

"Guys, how often do suspects deliver themselves to the police station?" Sara mused.

Brass cocked his head. "Not that often."


	6. Chapter 6

"So what do you think about this guy?" Nick asked Stephanie as they settled in behind the glass. Andrew Finnegan sat alone in the empty interrogation room, wringing his hands as he waited for Brass, Grissom and Sara.

She shrugged and leaned her shoulder into the glass. "Depends on what he has to say."

"Mike, uh, he told me about that happened to Hailey," Andy started hesitantly.

"Andrew," Sara interjected, not one to test the waters. "With your record, you had to know that you would be a suspect."

Andy took a deep breath. "Of course I did."

"So then why are you here?" Grissom asked.

"Because I didn't do anything," he replied coolly. "And I could never live with myself if I let Hailey's killer get away with anything because I was worried about myself. Throw me in jail if you want, but-"

"Alright, Andrew," Brass interrupted. "You came to us. What is it that you want to say?"

"Mike mentioned that you were asking about, you know, anyone who would want to hurt her."

"You know of someone?" Grissom asked.

Andy shrugged. "Not specifically, but there was somebody. Look, Hailey was an amazing and sweet girl, but two years ago she got herself mixed up with a guy who was pretty bad news."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "And Michael didn't mention this because…"

"Because he didn't know," Andy replied softly. "I overheard a few conversations and figured it out, but I think Mike went out of his way not to see it. Look, Hailey and Mike were best friends, but there were some things that she kept from him. It's silly, but I think she was worried about what he would think of her."

"You know this guy's name?" Brass asked, pen poised.

"Eli." Andy ran a hand through his curly hair. "Eli Matthews. I finally talked her into cutting him out of her life completely after she and Mike moved to this new place about a year ago."

Nick furrowed his brow. "You think this is elaborate misdirection?"

"I don't think so," Stephanie replied, scrutinizing the man in question. "There would be no incentive."

"How so?" Nick asked.

"Bringing up someone else in no way clears him as a suspect. He came to the station, and he had to know that once he got here you would take his prints and DNA. In my experience, the guilty are not that eager to provide that kind of information."

Nick smirked. "Even I know that."

* * *

"Catherine!" Greg darted into the break room. "I have the tox – Ooh pizza."

Catherine shook her head and smiled as the young tech nearly dove head first toward the pizza box. She slyly pulled the box away and shot him her best motherly look. "Results first, then pizza."

"Fine," Greg conceded, handing over the folder. "Your guy had a blood alcohol concentration of 0.35."

Warrick looked over Catherine's shoulder at the toxicology report. "Our boy would have been catatonic."

Greg made himself comfortable on the edge of the table, munching on a piece of pizza.

Warrick raised his eyebrows. "We need to get a cause of death."

With that the two of them bolted from the room, leaving Greg alone with the pizza.


	7. Chapter 7

"What's this?" Grissom asked, as he waded into the pile of papers scattered on the floor in the layout room.

"Don't touch anything," Sara's voice came from somewhere in the depths of the room. "I have a system."

Grissom gingerly moved to the table as Sara dug herself out of the pile. He stared at her expectantly.

"The pictures and blood spatter were getting me nowhere," she said, setting the stack of papers in her hand on the top of the table. "So I figured, twenty one year old girl, her life revolved around the telephone. I got her cell phone records."

"Any luck?"

Sara began flipping through the pages, picking out one page which was particularly highlighted. "Check this out. I highlighted the most frequent incoming numbers, calls and text messages. Pink match the number listed in the phonebook under Mom. Green match the number the roommate provided. Here is where it gets interesting. The calls and messages in yellow don't match any of the numbers in her phone book, but for almost a year it was the most frequent incoming number. And check out the text of some of these messages."

"Well, those aren't from mom," Grissom commented, perusing the page.

Sara shrugged. "I'd say that's evidence of a relationship."

"Did you look up the number?"

"Yes. Came up with a big fat goose egg," Sara replied.

"Brass has a bolo out on Eli Matthews," he offered. "Let's see if we can extend it to his phone records."

"No need," Sara smiled and spun the computer screen. "Welcome to Elijah Matthew's website. Among some other, very strange things, Mr. Matthews lists his cell phone number. It's a match."

"It's true what they say. You can find anything on the internet."

Sara picked up another stack. "A year ago, Hailey asked the phone company to program her phone with a new number. No more calls or messages from the webmaster."

"That substantiates the friend's story," Grissom said.

Sara nodded. "And may clear Eli Matthews."

Grissom's pager chirped on his belt. He concentrated on it for a moment before smiling. "Well, we can ask him. P.D. picked him up."

* * *

"Doc, please tell me that you've got something good," Warrick called as he and Catherine entered the morgue.

"How about an ID?"

Catherine smiled. "That would be a start."

"According to his dental records, John Doe Dumpster is Timothy Harkins." Dr. Roberts motioned to the body on the slab. "Cause of death aspiration."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "You're sure? Doc, the guy is covered in bruises."

"He probably got them when he fell into the dumpster," Doc said with a nod. "But that isn't what killed him. Mr. Harkins inhaled and choked on his own vomit, probably while unconscious."

"So he wasn't murdered," Warrick said with a sigh.

Doc shook his head. "Official report is accidental death."

"Now we just have to figure out why his prints were on Hailey Simms' door."

The morgue door swung open and Greg made a ceremonious entrance. "I may have the answer."

Catherine raised her eyebrows.

"I was checking the keys for epithilials," Greg started. "A match to your victim by the way, but it gets better. I was putting them back in the envelope when I noticed this."

He pointed and the others closed in tight.

"Desert Haven apartments, former residence of the late Hailey Simms."

* * *

"You want to sit in on this one?" Grissom asked as Stephanie approached them.

She smiled, but shook her head. "I think that I will stick to observing. But thanks for the offer."

Grissom nodded and he entered the interrogation room with Sara as Stephanie settled into her usual spot behind the glass.

"Look, I've been sitting in here for almost half an hour," Eli said, resting his arms on the table to look Brass in the eye. "It'd be nice if somebody told me why."

"Because we clocked you on your way out of town going over 100 with a dime of dope in the passenger seat," Brass replied, meeting his stare.

"Not to mention that we have evidence of an affair that you had with a dead girl," Sara added.

"Are you telling me that I am a suspect?" Eli asked.

"Not yet," Brass said. "We just need to ask you a few questions."

"I've got one for you. Who's this dead girl that I am supposed to know?"

"Hailey Simms," Sara replied.

Eli leaned back in the chair and smirked. "Can make it easy on you. I haven't seen Hailey in over a year."

"If that's the case then why were you burning rubber out of town?" Sara asked.

"Have you ever felt a Camero when it revs up over 100? It's better than sex." Eli gave Sara a pointed look.

Grissom cleared his throat and set Hailey's phone records in front of him. "Can you explain these?"

"Sure. Hailey and I had a thing, but that was over a year ago, man. Why are you hassling me?"

"Just to be clear," Brass interrupted. "You weren't at the victim's house in the last 24 hours?"

Eli rolled his eyes. "I don't even know where she lived."

"Alright, now stand up, hands behind your back," Brass commanded. "You are under arrest for possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell. You have a right to remain silent."

"And for our sakes," Sara said as Brass cuffed him. "Exercise that right."

Grissom sighed after Eli and Brass left the room. "Another dead end."

* * *

"I heard that I missed Matthew's interview," Nick commented as Sara came into the evidence room.

She shrugged. "You didn't miss much. What're you doing in here?"

"Looking for something."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "What, exactly?"

"I'll tell you when I find it," Nick replied, pulling down another box. He stared into it for a long moment, drumming his hand on the cardboard. Suddenly he fumbled for his set of crime scene photos. "Sara, I think that I just figured out the murder weapon."


	8. Chapter 8

There were still a few lingering squad cars outside Desert Haven apartments when Warrick and Catherine made their way into the management office. The manager had been called, but he was not particularly helpful on the phone, so Catherine requested that they meet with him in person. From the look on the portly man's face through the paned glass window of the office, he wasn't very happy about it.

Warrick took the lead, walking into the office and flashing his ID nonchalantly.

"Good," the manager said examining the ID. "Will you please tell those police officers to get out of here? It's making my property look bad."

Catherine furrowed her brow. "Sir, your property is a crime scene."

"Perception is everything, ma'am. A perspective tenant drives by and see's a cop here, they just keep on going."

Catherine shook her head incredulously. "You get a lot of inquiries at two in the morning?"

The manager shrugged.

"You know what, never mind." Catherine shook her bangs out of her eyes and slid a picture across the desk. "We are here about this man."

He scrutinized the picture quickly before handing it back to her. "That's Timothy Harkins, 234. He looks pretty funny, what's the matter with him?"

"He's dead," Warrick deadpanned. "When was the last time that you saw him?"

"A few days ago. Mrs. Curtis said that he was trying to get into her apartment."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "He was trying to rob her."

The manager shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Tim would never steal from anybody. He just had a tendency to forget where he lived on occasion."

"I'll bet the liquor helped," Catherine murmured. "We're going to have to see his apartment please."

"Now?" the manager asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

"That would be preferable," Warrick replied.

Nick dashed down the hall to catch up to Grissom and Brass. "Gris, I think that we finally caught a break."

Grissom took the folder that Nick all but shoved into his hands. "What am I looking for?"

"The knife drawer," Nick pointed out. "There are only five steak knives in there."

"Sara mentioned that in her notes," Grissom said replied. "Nick this isn't necessarily compelling. The apartment of two twenty-something college students is not exactly a full set."

"Yeah, but look around. Every other piece of equipment in that kitchen is top of the like. A kitchen like that, you have a full set of knives."

Grissom shook his head. "It's not enough for a lead, let alone a warrant, Nicky."

"I know, but check this out." He flipped to another photo, a close up of a void on the counter.

"Nick, I am a very busy man. What are you getting at?"

"Alright," Nick said with a little disappointment in his voice. He enjoyed going through the steps. "Here's what it comes down to. There was a void in the blood spatter on the counter that Sara couldn't account for. Flipping through the pictures, I noticed something strange. Look into the pantry."

Grissom shrugged and appeased him, but something caught his eye and he pulled out his glasses. "That looks like…"

"A knife block," Nick finished for him. "I had Archie enhance it for me. So I got to thinking. If you have a knife block-"

"Why keep your knives in a drawer?" Brass asked.

"Exactly," the Texan smirked.

Grissom cocked his head. "It's a long shot Nicky."

"Yeah, but it's all we've got. I'm going to get over there and test it for blood."

"Save yourself a trip and call Warrick," Grissom replied. "Turns out dumpster guy lived in the complex."

"You got it boss."

Stephanie eyed Greg with mild amusement. She had decided to take a break from the case while they were at a stand still to type up her observations. Sprawled on the couch in the break room, her laptop propped up on her bent knees, she was enjoying the solitude when the DNA tech entered. He was playing air guitar with wild abandon to an unknown song blasting incoherently from the headphones on his head. She closed her computer and smirked as she watched him cross the coffee pot. He turned around and started when he noticed her sitting on the couch. Unlike most people, Greg didn't show any indication of embarrassment. Instead, he just shrugged, removed his headphones and offered her a cup of coffee.

He quickly poured another cup and joined her on the couch. From a professional standpoint, she found him to be intriguing. From a personal standpoint, she found him entertaining. Regardless, she enjoyed his company.

"So explain something to me," Greg started. "How exactly do you go from analyzing childhood psychological disorders to hanging out with criminals?"

Stephanie shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Well I personally think that you…" Greg trailed off, his attention caught by something in the hallway.

She followed his gaze and smirked when she noticed that Sara was coming toward the break room. It didn't take a degree to understand what that meant. She playfully cleared her throat and laughed when he jumped. "Huh?"

Sara was cranky. Cases with no leads always made her cranky. She felt like she was spinning her wheels in overdrive with nowhere to go. After staring blankly at the file for nearly an hour, she decided that perhaps a cup of coffee and walk around the lab would lift her spirits. As she rounded the corner near the break room, she realized that she had been wrong. She caught sight of Greg and Stephanie laughing carelessly on the couch and it just served to ratchet up her agitation more.

"Greg, can I talk to you please?" she demanded as she pushed through the door in a huff. Greg's head snapped up at the sound and his eyes widened. Everyone in the office knew that Sara look and avoided it if at all possible. He gave a curt nod and followed her into the hall, leaving Stephanie to get back to her computer.

Once safely in the hall, Sara glared at him coolly. Greg furrowed his brow in confusion and cocked his head at her. "Was there something I could help you with?"

"Why are you not in DNA, finding something for me to work with?"

"Cause man does not live by DNA alone, Sara," Greg teased, holding up his cup. "Without this miraculous liquid, you would be getting no results at all."

She scowled "Greg-"

"Sara, the backlogged DNA from swing shift is running through the system right now. You need to calm down and wait your turn before you have an aneurism." Sara gaped at him for a moment, taken aback by Greg's rare show of seriousness. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were jealous."

Her scowl returned and Greg quickly passed over the cup of coffee in his hands before darting toward DNA lab.


	9. Chapter 9

I apologize for the confusion with the last chapter, sometimes my brain works faster than my fingers and things don't come out as clearly as I would like. That being said, I tried to clear things up a little for you in this chapter.

* * *

"Hey Cath, check that out." Warrick pointed down the sidewalk as they followed the manager to Timothy Harkins' apartment. "Hailey Simms apartment is right next door."

"What're you thinking?" Catherine asked, used to the look of contemplation that came over Warrick's face when he was running a scene in his head.

He furrowed his brow. "I'll have to check with Nick on the location of those prints, but first blush I'd say that our boy Timothy comes home one night after one too many drinks, forgets which apartment is his, tries Hailey's door instead. I hate to say it Cath, but I don't think these cases are related."

"You're telling me that two neighbors die on the same night of completely unrelated circumstances."

Warrick shrugged. "Looks like it."

"That's just too weird," Catherine said with a sigh.

Warrick's phone chirped on his belt loop. He quickly checked to caller ID and smiled. "I was just about to call you, man. Tell me what you know about the prints from the door."

"I'll help you if you help me," Nick's voice replied.

* * *

Greg ran through the halls of the lab, grasping a sheet of results fresh out of his printer. Sure he could have paged any one of the CSIs on the case, but news like this he enjoyed delivering in person. He rounded a corner and nearly ran into Sara and Grissom. "Who cracked the case, once again? Me, that's who."

Grissom raised an eyebrow at the tech and Sara quickly moved to snatch the sheet from his hands, but Greg pulled it out of her reach.

"I just finished running the SART kit on Hailey Simms."

"Doc said that there were no biologicals present," Grissom said, his interest sufficiently peaked.

"I didn't think so either, but you know how I like to be thorough, so I took a closer look. Vaginal contribution matches our victim, obviously and I found a trace of what I can only assume is lubricant, sent a sample over to Hodges for confirmation."

Grissom was growing impatient. "How does this help us Greg?"

Before the tech could continue, Nick turned the corner and darted toward them. "Warrick confirmed it, the knife block was positive for blood. What'd I miss here?"

"Greg was just telling us, in his own special way," Sara shot Greg a playful glare. "How he broke the case."

Greg flashed her a smile before continuing. "Well this is where it gets interesting. Your guy may have been careful, but not careful enough. I found a few little swimmers in the mix. It's a small sample, but enough to test. So, I ran it against the DNA you collected from the assorted guys in Hailey Simms life and got a match."

Sara scowled as she skimmed the paper that Greg finally passed to her. "Eli Matthews. Why does that not surprise me?"

"Should be enough for a warrant for his house," Grissom said, reading over her shoulder. "I'll call Brass and head over there."

"Keep an eye out for one of Hailey's kitchen knives while you're at it," Nick commented.

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "You got a theory, Nicky."

"Yeah," the Texan said, crossing his arms. "OK, we know that Matthews and the vic had a previous relationship, from the sounds of it not a healthy one. He didn't go over there with the intention of killing her, he wanted to sleep with her."

"So where did things go wrong?" Sara wondered out loud.

"That I don't know," Nick confessed. "But I can tell you that it was a crime of opportunity. The indistinguishable void in the spatter on the counter is from the knife block on its side. My theory is, whatever happened he reached for the nearest weapon, knocking over all of the knives in the process. After he killed her he hid the block and shoved the rest of the knives into a drawer, hoping we wouldn't notice that one was missing."

"It's a good theory," Grissom replied thoughtfully. "Now we just have to prove it."

"And figure out what happened in that apartment," Sara finished.

"Believe me, I'm on it." Nick gave them both a nod and started for the break room to get some coffee to get him through the next few hours.

Grissom quickly excused himself to find Brass to attain the warrant, leaving Greg and Sara alone in the hallway.

The tech smirked and snatched the results back from Sara. "See, I told you that I would get you results. I think somebody owes me an apology."

Sara furrowed her brow at him, which only made his smile grow as he gave her a wink and started back toward the DNA lab.

* * *

Catherine threw her pen down in frustration. She and Warrick had taken up residence in the layout room to finish up the paperwork in their case. The muscles in her hand were beginning to cramp up as she logged in the remainder of Timothy Harkins personal effects to be picked up by his nearest relative once the police located him. "You'd think that there would be less paperwork for an accidental death."

"And yet, here we are." Warrick couldn't help smiling at her little tantrum. "Aww come on, look on the bright side. We may actually get out of here on time for once."

"That is if Grissom doesn't suck us into his case," Catherine replied, turning back to the paperwork with a sigh.


End file.
